Love Hurts (Like a Cantaloupe to the Prefrontal Cortex)
by LiveLoveLyra
Summary: Accident-prone Natalie Wright might be in the ER enough to know all the nurses by name, but that doesn't mean she won't embark on a foolproof rescue mission to save her best friend from Sam Uley's cult. Well, 'foolproof' might be a bit of a stretch when Operation Rescue Kim lands her in the hospital, closely guarded by a possessive (and admittedly hot) stalker. Embry/OC
1. The Theory and the Silence

**A/N: Hey guys! Okay, so I know you guys are like, what the hell? Where have you been? So I'm sorry. I'll try to get on "Of All the Luck" ASAP. Real life got in the way, as always. So anyway, this is plot-bunny took root in my mind and I had to write it. YES, THIS IS THE SAME NATALIE WRIGHT AS IN "OF ALL THE LUCK". Do you need to read those 3 chapters to know what's going on? No. Not really. But feel free. So, give this one a spin if it pleases you, and drop me a line to let me know what you think. Good? Bad? Neither? Let me know! I hope you like Natalie :)**

_"Somebody, somebody  
Can anybody find me s__omebody to love?"_

_—"Somebody to Love", _Queen

I was kind of at a loss for what to do with my current dilemma. I may have been in denial about whether it was or was not a dilemma for a while (count: four months) but no it seems unavoidable. I've been deliberating over my possible course of action for what seems like an age or two. Well, at least two weeks, and so far I've just begun to acknowledge that, _yes_, this might actually be considered a legitimate problem and, _yes,_ you should take a course of action.

After that? I have nothing.

It all comes down to this: the minute I walk into the cafeteria/gym/auditorium room for lunch, it will be the twenty-second consecutive school day that I have had to sit alone for lunch.

Okay, technically not _alone_, because I had geek-loser Henry Hobber and nerd-genius-robot Rory Connweller at my table, but they are not good for conversation. Rory operates on a completely different level than most humans and most of your actual meaning goes right through her because she takes everything literally. And, of course, Henry Hobber is just the creepy sort of loser. Not even the smart kind.

But sitting at the dork table by the trash cans with Henry and Rory hasn't always been so dreadful. In fact, lunch used to be something I could look forward to. Of course, that was back when the loser table had one extra occupant.

Kim Connweller, my best friend (and Rory's sister, coincidentally, but that's not important).

Kim and I started being friends in kindergarten, probably because we were both losers. Me, the youngest and only girl in a brood of six children, and her, the only average child in a family of exceptional talent. I repelled people with my chronic nosebleeds and constant injuries, and she made people uncomfortable with her silence and social awkwardness.

You might say that we had a perfect friendship.

(You'd be right, of course.)

So, basically it just us. _Kinetic Kim and Natalie the Nightmare vs. the World! _(Okay, lamest superhero names ever, I know, so piss off.) against the world. I protected her from her bitch sister Laura and her evil mother (who might just be Satan incarnate), and she always made sure I had my Epi-Pen with me at all times.

Of course, there was one thing that I couldn't protect Kim from. Something that was almost as old as our friendship.

And that thing is named Jared Cameron.

Sounds like a normal name, right? Well, it is, because Jared's a pretty normal guy. He's not that smart but he's not dumb, either, and he's nice enough, I guess. A normal guy.

The problem was that Kim—for reasons no one on earth has ever been able to fathom— thought Jared was just about the greatest fucking thing to ever grace the earth.

(which, for the record, he's totally fucking not. He's just a random guy.)

I don't know exactly what Jared did to deserve Kim's everlasting affection (okay, total fucking lie, she's told me that stupid story about a million times, like him helping her off the ground was some fairy tale act of chivalry and undying love instead of just a fucking act of common courtesy). But the point is that the Jared Obsession never went away, unlike all little girl crushes are supposed to. If anything, it just got worse with time.

You might be wondering what could possibly be the harm in letting Kim live out her little Jared fantasy. Like, why would I have to protect her from that? It's just a harmless little crush.

Well, let me tell you, naysayer: it was _not_ fucking little, and it was not 'harmless'.

The Jared Obsession was kind of Kim's way of escape. Her home life was never great, considering the fact that her family was apparently perfect and she was the lone smudge on her mother's perfect fucking record. I guess Kim liked the idea of a fantasy world where someone nice and sweet and good-looking like Jared Cameron thought mousy, average-looking Kim Connweller was perfect just the way she was. I can't really blame her for that, not really, because I more than anyone knew how badly Kim took the things her mom said. So don't degrade Kim and her pain by calling it 'little'. It was probably the best part of her day to see Jared in class.

That being said, the Jared Obsession was most certainly unhealthy. Of course, Kim never deluded herself thinking that he actually loved her or something. But it was still awful, the way she'd get her hopes up and then see him kissing a girl admittedly prettier than her. And who was the only one around who cared enough to pick up the pieces?

That's right. Me.

The Jared Obsession was like when you think picking a scab will make you feel better and it does for like five minutes except then you're bleeding again and it heals with a scar. Weird analogy, but true. And in the end, it hurt Kim more than she'd been in the first place, because no matter how hard she fell for him, he didn't know she existed.

Cliché, right? Wrong.

He actually didn't know who she was. There are barely thirty people in our class. And yet he had no idea who she was. It was like he was her favorite person in the whole _world,_ and to him, she was too insignificant to even blip on his radar _at all._

As someone who loves Kim, can you blame me for hating him a little for that?

So, like any good friend, I tried to discourage the Jared Obsession. It would have been easier if the only guy who'd ever shown interest in Kim is Henry Hobber, who to be honest would sleep with a plant if it'd have him.

But for the first few months of our sophomore year, everything was normal. Kim's mom was a total bitch (nothing new), my mom was a overprotective mess of anxiety (I'm her baby, and the only girl, and I happen to be a very worrying child health-wise, so I can't blame her), both of our dads were absent (Kim's left when she was a baby, mine is away on business almost constantly), we sat at the dork table with Rory and Henry, and Jared Cameron didn't know Kim was even alive.

Ah. The sweet life.

Well, it was, until weird stuff started happening. The worst thing was that it'd happened before, a year or so ago. What happened around a year or so ago in the early part of our freshman year was really weird and kind of scary, to be honest, and hot gossip for _months. _

The Cliff-Notes version: Sam Uley, who had everything (top of the class, hottest girlfriend, college scholarship) just disappeared. Like, without a trace. His girlfriend, Leah Clearwater (practically Rez Royalty), was frantic. And then he turned up in the woods, about a foot taller, on steroids, and Rez-bound for life, apparently. The Elders suddenly thought that he was the greatest thing ever (even more than before) and suddenly it was okay for him to skip out on college (to Cal Berkeley, no less), when the same year they flipped biscuits over Rebecca Black getting married in Hawaii instead of going to college like she'd planned. Leah was frightened and worried and more than a little pissed—but, you know, mostly thanking the lord Jesus her fiancé wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere. But she'd been so frantic that she'd called her cousin, Emily, down from the Makah reservation for moral support. What happened after is a little fuzzy for everyone, although there is much speculation and some pretty wack theories.

Basically: Sam loves Leah; Sam sees Emily; Sam dumps Leah for Emily; Emily says no; Sam stalks her; Emily gets attacked by a bear; Emily=scarred for life; Sam+Emily=forever.

It ended with him leaving Leah Clearwater, hands down the prettiest girl on the Rez, for her cousin and best friend Emily. Yeah. Pretty weird.

I only know as much as I do because Kim's sister Laura, however bitchy, is also Leah Clearwater's devoted best friend. (I actually think Laura always kind of knew Emily ranked first in terms of Leah's best friend, so she may have been a little harsh.)

Okay, so maybe this was a little longer than the general Cliff Note, but whatever. It happened, and nobody could fucking shut up about it for ages. Everyone was all, poor Leah, Emily is evil!, and Sam is such a deadbeat!

…I may have been one of them.

But eventually everyone gave it up when Amy Miller got pregnant by her stepdad (gross), but Sam and Emily have pretty much laid low ever since. He was still branded the cheating bastard that broke Leah Clearwater's heart, and she was still the backstabbing homewrecker that stole him away, and no one really made any moves to let them forget it.

(As far as Leah goes, I'm pretty sure she was just trying to get out of the Rez and away from that whole can of beans as soon as she possibly could.)

So while everyone was fixated on the Goodwin family drama (the next big scandal following the Miller pregnancy; turns out Maura Goodwin was boning Mr. Kipman, the math teacher, for a better grade), the Sam Uley Scandal flared up out of nowhere like an ugly case of herpes.

(Ew. Too graphic.)

Why, you may ask, were we digging up old graves? (Not literally, sicko.)

Because Jared Cameron, the one true love of Kim Connweller's life, vanished in just the same way.

Kim was, of course, beside herself. She even called up Jared's _dad_ and asked if he was okay. (I promise that's the closest she's ever gotten to staking out his house.)

And then, barely a week later, Paul Lahote (Rez bad boy and bully) dropped off the face of the earth, too.

The Rez was abuzz with theories of alien abduction and other crazy bullshit, until my gossipy Aunt Daphne spotted the both of them disappearing into the woods, "shirtless, shoeless, like uncivilized _cretins_", with "that good-for-nothing Sam Uley character" no less.

So of course rumors of a gang started up, and the sudden growth spurts brought out rumors of steroid use, drug dealing, etc. There was even talk of a cult.

I, of course, knew it couldn't be true. This was La Push, after all, and nothing really exciting actually happens here. It defies logic.

And then I saw Jared and Paul, who suddenly looked almost _identical_, the day they came back to school, and the rumors of a cult suddenly seemed to hold actual ground.

I wish I could say that was the end to the weirdness.

The fucking impossible happened, third period.

Jared Cameron sat in his usual seat in English or History or whatever, conveniently alphabetically located next to one Kimberly Connweller. He looked over at Kim, probably to ask for a pencil.

And then he never looked away.

It was like the fucking Twilight Zone. The tables had not only _turned_, they'd fucking imploded, because Jared Cameron was officially obsessed with Kim Connweller.

The general consensus of that development went something like this: WHAT. THE. FUCK.

And I, for one, would have to agree.

I'm not an idiot (well, I did get my hand stuck in a Gatorade bottle, so maybe I am a bit), but I'm not naïve. Kim was there to protect me from potentially fatal beestings, and I was there to protect her from potentially devastating heartbreak. I mean, have you never seen _She's All That_? Or _Cruel Intentions_? I totally wasn't the only one who thought he was pulling her leg, trying to see if he could get all the way with the weird girl with a pathetic crush on him for a hundred bucks or something.

After the first month and a half, I kind of figured he might be legitimate. Of course, Kim and I ended up fighting more often than not because she took offense to my realistic attitude.

("Oh, so it's such a fucking crazy idea that someone like Jared could ever like someone like me without a trick? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Natalie, nice to know you've got my back." comes to mind)

I was just trying to be honest. Christ.

After that big argument and uneasy truce, I started to notice the trend of me, eating alone (with Henry and Rory). And of me, driving home alone. Spending the weekend alone. Going to class, alone.

Today will mark a month and a half of silence between me and Kim if she sits with Jared today. The sort of month and a half of silence that creeps up on you, really. I mean, I've been busy lately, with my brother getting engaged and left at the altar in January, and then getting an allergic reaction to the wedding cake, and then driving my car into the mailbox. So it was easy for the lack of Kimmunication (get it? Communication with Kim? Clever, right?) to go unnoticed. In fact, Kim artfully assuaged any doubts I had about her pulling away from our friendship by getting me gradually assimilated to less interaction. I became accustomed to her new ride (Jared, obviously.) And then it didn't seem a big deal when she only called on the weekends, and then not at all. And then weekend hang outs became more and more infrequent until it became the usual to not see her at all over the breaks.

She was fucking weaning me out of our friendship. Like I was a dependent baby animal and she was trying to get me to eat real food so I could survive in the wild.

Well, fuck her, because I notice _now._

People bump into me on their way to lunch as I hover in the doorway, staring at my usual table and willing her to appear, sitting there like she used to back when it was _our_ table.

(she's not, and I feel like the cafeteria is giving me an asthma attack).

I'm holding a little hope, because just because she's not sitting at our (…my?) table doesn't mean she won't show up in a second.

(even if she always, _always_ beats me to lunch.)

I take a few steps into the room, and suddenly freeze. She is there, with _Jared_ and _Paul_ and Embry Call and Jacob Black. Sitting there, with them, smiling and laughing like she belongs.

Because she does belong, doesn't she? It's me who doesn't. It's me who doesn't belong anywhere.

Certainly not with _them_. With _her. _

I turn around and sprint out of the cafeteria, out of the school, and I guess out of Kim's life.

* * *

As I leave school behind me in the proverbial cloud of dust, it quickly comes to my attention that having a car is nowhere near as cool when you don't have a single friend to visit. Basically the only people _on the whole fucking reservation _who talk to me besides my mom are Henry fucking Hobber and Kim's kid genius sister Rory—and I am not so pathetic to stoop so low as to take Henry Hobber as my new best friend. If this is rock bottom, _that _scenario doesn't bear thinking about.

(And being Rory's friend is somehow even more pathetic, probably because not only does she think she's superior to me and the human race, but it'd seem like I was trying to get to Kim through her kid sister and that's somehow even worse than the Henry Hobber situation.)

Even so, driving around in my fifteenth birthday present (a "_sorry I missed your birthday again!"_ present from my dad) was strangely cathartic. It was easy to leave Kim and her stupid boyfriend behind when I was putting physical distance between us.

I ended up driving home. My dad is a big-shot at his company or whatever so my mom doesn't have to work, which is great most of the time.

Now it would be awesome if she worked two jobs like Kim's does, at least so I could sneak and skip school unnoticed. But even as I pull into our long driveway, I can see my mom standing in the window glaring at my car.

I hop out, nearly twisting my ankle in the gravel, and stomp over to the front door. She rips it open before I'm even on the porch. Mr. Noodle, our basset hound, flops past her eagerly. At least someone in the universe is happy when I show up.

"Natalie Lisa Wright!" she shrieks, her hands on her hips. "It is eleven-thirty on a _Wednesday_. Mind my asking why you are not in school?!"

I ignore her, letting her rant about irresponsibility and teen pregnancy (not completely unfounded considering my brother Jeremy knocked up this girl his senior year, big drama at the time) while I squat down and bury my face in Mr. Noodle's flabby body. Dogs are great, you know? They don't ever ditch you. Not even for Jared Cameron.

I pet Mr. Noodle almost feverishly, taking some comfort from his sweet puppy face. He woofs, hesitantly wagging his tail, and gives me a lick on the face. _All better,_ he seems to say. _You not sad now_.

I burst into tears.

"—completely irresponsible, and I—Natalie? Natalie, sweetheart, are you alright?" Mom's anger seems to drop away from her face, replaced by concern. "Sweetheart, talk to me. What's happened?"

I let her pull me inside, Mr. Noodle waddling along after us. She sits me down on the couch in our sitting room (different than the family room, apparently), and pulls me into a tight hug.

"Sweetheart, please. Let me help you. What's happened?"

Eventually I tell her. About Kim and Jared, and Sam Uley's weird gang. About the silence. About being alone. And gradually, as I rant, my tears turn to anger—at Kim, at Jared, at Sam Uley and the rest of them. I'm only half aware of what I'm saying as I accuse them of every single rumor I've ever heard—and then I come to halting, startling realization that floods me with a desperate kind of hope I probably left in the cafeteria with the loser table. It's a horrible idea, but somehow it seems less awful than the one dreadful, creeping thought of "Maybe she just doesn't want to be your friend anymore.", because this one gives me hope—it gives me a _purpose_. A mission. A way to bring things back to the way they used to be.

"Mom—Mom, they _brainwashed_ Kim!"

And I, Natalie Wright, had officially adopted Operation Rescue Kim as my mission in life.

(so fucking take cover, bitches.)

**A/N: ...so, what's the consensus? Yes, no, maybe so? Drop me a review! Thanks for reading!**

**Love, Lyra**


	2. The Cantaloupes and the Corner-Turning

**A/N: Okay, here's chapter two! I was very productive today, as you can see! EMBRY IS HERE! And so is Kim, and Jared, and Natalie's mom and Natalie's brother. But _Embry, _yay! And someone gets a _cantaloupe _to the prefrontal cortex!**

**Okay, so some things I forgot to post with Chapter 1:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or the lyrics I use as chapter headings. Credit where it is due.**

**And WARNINGS: Swearing, Sex, Drinking, and mentions of child/substance/spousal abuse.**

___"Who doesn't long for someone to hold  
__Someone who loves you without being told  
__Somebody tell me why I'm on my own  
If there's a soulmate for everyone."_

_—"Soulmate",_ Natasha Bedingfield

My mom is a sensible woman, and I trust her judgment.

…_oh my god_ I can't even say that with a straight face. Okay. Right. Starting over.

My mom is a sensible person under certain circumstances. However: she is _my_ mother, and crazy Aunt Daphne _is_ her sister, so she isn't immune to moments of unconstrained melodrama.

Such as right now.

You might be thinking that this episode of insanity might be wrought out of concern for the fact that _Jared Cameron brainwashed Kim Connweller. _

But _no. _

She's running around the house like a chicken with its head called off, calling Dr. Gerandy at the hospital in a fit and tripping over Mr. Noodle because she thinks that_ I _am the one in this situation who needs psychiatric help.

(…apparently my epiphany sounded crazy instead of brilliant to her.)

Dr. Gerandy, of course, is very familiar with us. (Like, actually, we invited him to our Christmas party). We know him very well from all the incidents concerning yours truly that resulted in an urgent need for emergency care (including but not limited to: asthma attacks, allergic reactions, falling from great heights, falling down stairs, falling _off_ stairs, skateboarding, "cliff diving"/cliff falling, knife accidents, burns, and spider bites).

This being said, Dr. Gerandy asked (calmly) what _exactly _was wrong with me and when my mom couldn't give him a single (actual) symptom, he said, and I quote: "Tylenol and sleep."

(I know what he said because Mom stomped around for twenty minutes, muttering it over and over.)

And I'm honestly not certain if he was recommending the Tylenol for me or for my mom. (I am more than a little afraid to ask.)

But either way, my mom was pretty insistent that I was seeing things and that Kim was just going through the apparently mandatory "I have my first boyfriend and he is my whole world" phase. Psh. As _if._ She just doesn't like things that mess with the perfect order of our lives.

"She'll get over it real quick, sweetheart," Mom soothes, still looking a bit frazzled as she forcibly tucks me into bed at _noon_**. **"Just go talk to her. She'll listen to you."

"No, she won't."

"Why wouldn't she, Nat? This is Kimberly we're talking about, of course she'll listen."

"Mom, I _told _you. He _brainwashed _her. Him and Sam Uley and Paul Lahote—"

"I can't say I'm pleased that your Kimberly is keeping company with that type of…person…but, Natalie, _brainwashed? _Really?"

"Yes, Mom, I told you—I have to make her see sense! He's using mind control—"

"_Mind control? _Natalie, don't be ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous! It's the truth!"

"It's crazy talk is what it is. Kim is your best friend. Just talk to her. I bet she hasn't even realized she's neglecting you—you _know _how much she likes this boy."

"…because she's been _brainwashed!"_

"Enough with this brainwashing nonsense! You are watching too much science fiction, young lady."

"But Kim's in danger—"

_"Kim _in danger! I'd worry about myself if I were you! Do you want the whole reservation to think we're out of our trees?! No, I should think not! This is the last I'll hear about this brainwashing business."

"But—"

"No buts, Natalie!" she puts a finger against my lips to shut me up. When she's confident I'm not going to protest anymore (clearly she's a lost cause if denies the truth in front of her nose, and frankly I have bigger fish to fry considering the_ imminent danger _my best friend is in), she stands up and walks to the door. Mr. Noodle heaves himself up onto my bed, settling in at my feet—finally, an ally!

"But if it'll make you feel better, I could ask around. See if Aunt Daphne or any of the others know anything more about your Kimberly in this…thing…" she trails off with a tired sigh.

"Thanks, Mom."

** "**Of course, sweetheart. Feel better, okay?" As she closes the door, I hear her whisper-shout: "A _cult? _What is _in _that allergy medication!? Lord, that child.**"**

** …**thanks, Mom.

I wait until her footsteps retreat down the stairs before I turn to Mr. Noodle. "Noodle," I tell him with as much seriousness as I am capable. He woofs slightly. "Noodle, you are no longer only ranked _Mr. _Noodle—you are now Sgt. Noodle, second-in-command of top secret covert Operation Rescue Kim. Swear your secrecy!"

Sgt. Noodle woofs.

"Good enough," I decide. I wrestle out of bed. As always, I not to gag at the bubble-gum pink walls of my room—an unfortunate consequence of being the only girl after five boys.

I have to dig into my dresser to find my cellphone—Razr phone, be jealous—and quickly dial my brother Jordan.

Okay, so to avoid confusion, I have five brothers, and yes, their names all start with J (Mom's name is Josephine, so apparently it's 'cute' or whatever):

Jeremy, the oldest, is kind of a douchebag and he's kind of in disgrace ever since he knocked up this chick senior year, married her, and divorced her before the baby was born— and then totally ditched. (Unfortunately, he picked the most annoying girl in Washington to knock up; ironically she's Emily Young (of the Sam Uley Scandal fame)'s sister Hannah.)

Jeffrey is second oldest, and apparently he's an "artiste" although I have yet to see any paintings that look like anything other than a rapid paintbrush let loose on an innocent canvas.

Jordan is after that, and he's a totally dweeb nerd guy. He's in Japan working on computers, and according to Jeffrey he has a super-hot Japanese girlfriend. Named _Gretchen. _

Then there's Jackson, who is my second favorite brother. He's studying zoology at U-Dub and sends me cool things from his research expeditions in the Amazon and the Andes.

Jonathan, or Johnny, is the last one, and the closest to me in age. He's probably the nicest out of all my brothers. He's also the only one who bothered to know Kim's name.

So of course he's the person to call.

"._..hello?_" Johnny's voice is thick and slightly muffled, like he was asleep.

"Johnny! Johnny, I need your help!"

"_…Nat? That you? Are you okay_?"

"Yeah, but Johnny—"

"_So you're not bleeding, the house isn't on fire, and there isn't a mass murderer in the next room_?"

"Well, no, but since you're in Chicago I really don't know why calling you would be my immediate course of action in any of those situations."

"_Fuck, Natalie, it's like—really_ early_…"_

_ "_So? Get your lazy ass out of bed! Your sister is in need of _dire assistance—"_

_ "I'm going to hang…up…now…_"

"Johnny, Kim's in trouble!"

"_What?_"

"Kim, she's in trouble—"

"_What happened, Nat? Is Mom there_?"

"No! Don't tell Mom, okay? She thinks I'm imagining things!"

"_…Nat, this wouldn't be the first time. You thought Mr. Kipman was a Satanist!_"

"…in my defense, he _was _boning Maura Goodwin. So he wasn't, y'know, _godly _or anything."

"_Christ, Nat! Get to the point_!"

"Okay, okay! Kim has a _boyfriend." _I pause to let this sink in.

"…_and?" _Johnny grumbles. "_Lots of girls get boyfriends, Nat, it's not the fucking apocalypse_!"

"But _Kim _is_—"_

_ "I cannot_ believe _you fucking woke me up to talk about girl _drama_!"_

_ "_There's something wrong with her boyfriend!"

I hear a rush of air over the other line, and I can kind of picture Johnny sighing exasperatedly and pinching the bridge of his nose. "_What_,_ pray tell_," Johnny asks in a flat, angry tone of voice. "_Is '_wrong_' with her boyfriend?_"

Where do I _begin. _"It's the guy she's liked since we were _five, _who didn't know she existed until like, a month ago—" hyperbole. "—and then he was suddenly _all over her, _like he couldn't get _enough—_it was like real, live, _actual _love at first sight or something."

"_Good for Kim, then."_

"No! No, Johnny, _not _good for Kim! _Why _does he all of a sudden like her so much? _What _brought it on? So I thought to myself—"

_"Oh, Jesus, here we go_."

"—'I bet it's a bet!'"

"…_what_? _Do you think you're living in a chick flick or something_?"

"_Exactly! _That theory didn't hold ground after awhile, and besides, Kim got a little pissy whenever I accused him of being in it for money."

"_Well, I should hope so! Nat, what the hell is wrong with you?!_"

"But now she's ditched me for him and his band of steroid-using creeps! I think she's been initiated into their cult!"

"_Wait, what? Did you say a…a _cult?"

"… did I not mention the cult?"

"_I think I would remember a_ cult_, Nat_."

"Right. Well, you remember what happened with Sam Uley?"

"_Yeah. The whole thing with Leah._" A pause. "_Wait, you actually think he's going to leave Kim for her cousin or something? Isn't Kim's cousin, like, eight, and y'know, a dude?"_

"…well, Kim _does _have a cousin our age…who's a girl…but she lives in Oregon with Kim's crazy aunt!"

"_Okay, so then I really don't see what Sam Uley has to do with this_."

"_Sam Uley _has to do with this because that whole thing—well, minus the Leah and Emily thing—the disappearing and the growth spurt and the anger and the _shadiness _in the woods—it's all _happening again."_

_ "Wait, what?_"

"This started happening in, like, October. But basically Kim's boyfriend—well, he wasn't her boyfriend _then—"_

_ "Get to the point!_"

"Okay! God! He disappeared and so did this other guy in our class—and then Aunt Daphne—"

"_Oh, not Aunt Daphne, Nat. She's crazy_."

"—she _saw _him and Paul with Sam, in the woods, shirtless!"

"_…you think you're in a romance novel or something_?"

"NO! Johnny, I'm being serious—they're all weird now! They don't talk to their old friends, and they both quit sports—and believe me, sports scholarships are the only way either of them could pay for college! They cut class all the time, and they're both failing—and they talk about Sam like he's some kind of _god. _Whenever he calls, they _immediately _go. If he tells them to do something, it's like they _have _to do it. Kim said that Jared once ditched on their _date _because Sam showed up and _ordered _him away!"

"_Are you sure you're not exaggerating_?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure—ordinarily I wouldn't care, Johnny, but they got _Kim!"_

_ "What_?"

"Sam Uley and his weird cult thing—they've got Kim, too! She's not in her right mind, Johnny…it's like she's been ordered to secrecy, too…and it's like… she doesn't do _anything _without Jared. I haven't seen her without him in a month! And—back when they would separate sometimes—she kept _checking her phone _to see if he'd called her! She hates to be away from him for even _a minute! _And—whenever I try and talk to her, it's like I'm talking to a _wall! _She won't _listen _to me!"

"_Oh. Wow._"

"I need a plan! I'm going to rescue her!"

"_Wow, okay…uh, well, Nat, from what you've told me—that might not be the best idea."_

"_What?! _Johnny!_"_

_ "Hear me out, Nat! Christ. Okay. I have a few reasons, so just shut up and listen, will you?_"

"Fine."

"_Okay. First: whenever you try to plan, it never goes well_."

"I don't like what you're accusing."

"_Nat. It doesn't. Don't pretend. Second: if this is that guy Kim was always making moon-eyes over in the diner—_"

"_YES! _That was him!"

"—_then maybe she doesn't want to be, you know. Saved_."

"…well, of _course _she doesn't want to be saved, you blockhead! She's been _brainwashed!"_

_ "_…_I'm going to pretend you didn't just accuse your best friend of being _brainwashed_."_

_ "_If you saw Jared and Sam and Paul—actually, there's two more now. You remember Rachel and Rebecca?"

"_Remember_ Rachel and Rebecca? _Nat, be serious: every guy on that reservation knows who _Rachel and Rebecca_ are_."

"Their brother, Jake. He's one of them."

"_Wait, little Jake_?"

"…erm, not-so-little anymore, Johnny…he's like, six five."

"_Holy shit_."

"His friend, too. Embry."

"_I don't know_ him_, but wow. Little Jake. He's not—there's just no_ way _he's in a_ cult_."_

_ "_That's where the brainwash theory comes in. The new people in the cult—Kim, Embry, Jake—they're the type that would _never _risk school or break the law or anything, and yet—_here they are. _Still think it's not plausible?"

"_…okay, now I'm a little weirded out. Something is definitely not adding up._"

"_See?! _I knew it!"

"_And that brings me to point number three!" _

"Which is?"

"_If there really is something bad going on—and I'm not saying there is!—then for Christ's sake,_ stay out of it._ If something bad is going on, don't go poking your nose in it! Jesus, Nat,_ bad things _happen to people who stick their noses where they don't belong! If there's even an _ounce_ of truth in what you're saying, then just_ leave it the fuck alone._ I mean, what if it's drugs or something? There is a_ big_ difference from poking into Sam Uley's business and poking into the business of some_ drug cartel_, and God help him if he's gotten mixed in with one of them. And if he's gotten a bunch of kids involved…well, that's not in your hands. Even if it is Kim who's involved. It could be real, actual_ danger_, Natalie, and I have half a mind to give Mom a call and let her in on your scheming._"

And they say only the Wright _women _overreact.

"_What? _Johnny, you wouldn't!"

"_Then promise me, Nat! Promise me that you'll keep away from Kim and—their gang or cult or whatever! The last thing we need is_ you_ getting sucked into that mess_."

"So now you believe me."

"_…that doesn't mean anything, Nat! All I know is what you've told me, and frankly you're capable of blowing things way out of proportion!_"

"What, so I'm just _paranoid? _What happened to 'stay away from them! They're drug dealers!_'? Hypocrite!"_

_ "I'm not being a _hypocrite_, Natalie, I just want you to be careful! So promise me that you'll stay out of their business!_"

"I can't promise that! She's my friend! I—I won't _abandon _her!"

"_Natalie! Either she doesn't _want_ saving_—"

"Because she's been _brainwashed!"_

_ "_—_or she's gotten herself mixed in way out of her depth with stuff neither of you should ever get involved with! You want to help her? Stay away, Nat._"

"…b-but, Johnny…it's _Kim…"_

_ "Natalie…I'm sorry I yelled at you. Just…be safe, okay? …and Nat?_"

"Y-Yeah?"

"_Kim's an idiot if she's ditching you for some empty-headed lemming taken up in a_ cult_."_

_ "_But she's _not _an idiot, Johnny. Kim's smart."

"_Nat, even the smart girls have a way of being stupid for some guy._"

"Okay. Okay. Bye, I guess."

"_Bye, Nat_." I snapped my phone shut and gave the recently-promoted Sgt. Noodle a glare he really didn't deserve. The drawback of subordination.

"Well, that was depressing." I tell him, flopping back onto the bed. I don't know whether it's the phone call with Johnny or the noxious shade of pink in my room, but either way I have the urge to vomit.

(Sgt. Noodle and I end up watching _E.R. _reruns for two hours, reflecting on life and hating ourselves.)

And then Sgt. Noodle woofed, and with it, came a sudden, beautiful epiphany that brought back meaning to life.

"You're right, Sgt. Noodle!" I jumped up, yanking on my boots. "I never actually _promised _him anything."

And with that, I snuck out past my mom, who was vacuuming the dining room, to my car.

Operation Rescue Kim is _on._

…okay, so now that I'm in my car I have absolutely _no _clue what I'm going to do with my life. Or with Operation Rescue Kim.

Fuck.

—_you're the best friend, that I've ever had! Been with you such a loooong time, you're my sunshiiiine, and I want you to know that my feelings are truuuuueeee—_my phone rings, shattering the silence, and my heart leaps as I fumble around for my cell.

_Please be Kim, please be Kim, please be Kim…_

_ "_Kim?"I shout into the receiver. I kind of hate that I sound like such a wuss.

"_Yes_, _it's _Kim!" Her voice is tinny over the phone, but painfully and wonderfully familiar.

"Kim! You're really there! On the phone! I can't believe it!" …maybe I was a _little _paranoid about the whole 'cult' thing.

"_Natalie, did you call my mother and tell her I was in a gang?!"_

_ Oh, shit. _"No—what? I hate your mother."

"_Yeah, well, I'm grounded because _you _made up some rumor about Jared being in a gang—"_

"Hey! I did not _make up _that rumor, Kim!"

"—_and then you blabbed to your mother about it, and she told my _mom_! My_ mom, _Natalie, and she went nuts and now I can't see Jared anymore—"_

"That's a good thing! Something's not right with them, Kim!"

_"That is none of your business, Natalie! None! You had no right to interfere with my relationship!"_

"I didn't interfere!"

_ "And you don't even know Jared, okay! You're just judging them without bothering to know the truth!"_

"Kim, I'm—"

"_What? You're what? You're sorry? I'm grounded and forbidden from seeing my boyfriend because you betrayed trust, because you interfered—and you're sorry?"_

_ "_Kim…I—Kim, it—dangerous—"

_"You wouldn't understand, Natalie!"_

"Then tell me! Tell me, Kim! Help me understand!"

"_What, so you can tell your_ _mother?" _

_ "No!" _I'm full-out sobbing now, and I know she can hear. Not like she gives a shit, apparently. "No! So I can _be your friend!"_

_ "Who said I even _wanted _that anymore! I get one good thing in my life, and you have to ruin it, don't you!? You have everything! Why can't you just let me be happy for once?!"_

She couldn't have hurt me worse if she'd taken a steamroller to my car, with me inside it. "Kim….what _happened _to you? What did he _do _to you?!"

"_He hasn't done anything to me, Natalie! I'm just standing up to you for a change!_"

"Standing up to_ ME?!"_

_ "Yeah! Standing up to you!_"

"What the _fuck, _Kim?! I'm the one trying to _help you!"_

The dial tone is the only answer I get.

I decide to being a total cliché and scream into my empty car like Kim could hear me. I snap the phone shut and throw it in the backseat, kind of wishing I could throw it at Kim.

I'm torn between begging and crying to Kim, and punching her in the throat.

Wait.

What am I doing? This is the _proof! _This conversation—Kim would _never _had yelled at me like that pre-Jared.

Conclusion: _definitely _brainwashed.

"Natalie? Are you out here?"

Oh, fuck. Mom is peering at my car from the porch, and I can tell she's pissed. _Don't look in the car don't look in the car don't look in the car—_

"Natalie? Natalie—_Natalie Lisa Wright!" _She looked in the car.

Doing what any sane person should do when confronted with an angry mother, I jammed my key into the ignition and fucking _hurtled _out of the driveway.

(icing on the cake: I totally drove into one of her potted plants. She's going to _disembowel _me.)

Having escaped immediate death, I continue on my merry way. Well, not merry, since my best friend has been brainwashed into thinking that _I _am the enemy instead of the _true _foe.

(That would be _Jared, _in case you've been asleep this whole time.)

And then it hits me that I've sort of kind of maybe alienated everyone: Kim, Johnny, Mom…

Only Sgt. Noodle remains.

…wait a minute. Whoa ho ho, doth mine eyes deceive me, or is that _Jared's _truck parked in front of the convenience store?

I immediate swerve into the parking lot. I'm confident I'm taking up about three parking spaces and I'm also somewhat confident that I'm blocking Jared in (_win for Team Nat!) _but who gives a shit about that.

I sneak in, glad that the Atearas removed the bell from the ceiling after it fell and gave me a concussion this one time.

(see? _bad luck.)_

I carefully close the door behind me and listen for the sound of voices in the refrigerated section.

"Jared, Emily didn't say to get pizza rolls!" _Kim, _I breathe, creeping around an aisle towards the sounds of their voices.

"Aw, Kim," _Jared. _I wretch a little for effect, ducking behind frozen peaches. "Please? Just one box."

"Fine, but _you're _paying for it, Jared."

"You're the best, Kim!" there's silence for about half a second, and then: "Aw, come _on, _you guys. Can't you keep your hands off each other?"

A shiver ripples down my body involuntarily.

That can't be _Embry Call_, dweeby best friend of Jacob Black and Quil Ateara. That's not his voice. It _can't _be.

Only one aisle separates me from the Lovebirds of Satan and Unfortunate Casualty Number One. Kim's words are echoing through my brain: _who said I even wanted that anymore who said I even wanted that anymore_ _who said I even wanted that anymore—_

and just like that, I'm climbing up racks of produce, listening to Jared and Embry attempt to wheedle extra food out of Kim, and this rescue mission is starting to feel a hell of a lot like a revenge mission.

I reach the top of the cantaloupes as Jared and Embry beg for ice cream like little kids on a shopping trip with their mom. I peer out into the next aisle over, balancing precariously on the stack of canned corn with cantaloupes digging into my torso. They _do _look like little kids, in a weird sort of way, as they beg for this and that. Kim has a stern look on her face that she's used on me numerous times, but apparently _you're allergic to coconut, Nat, you can't have a Mounds! _has shifted to _Okay, Jared, one more box of fudgesicles. _And apparently letting him have fudgesicles means _hey, let's play tonsil tennis in public—_

_ Fuck that noise, _I think,and it's stupid and dumb but this is what happens when I am without Kim's common sense for too long.

I grab the thing nearest to me, a cantaloupe, _you know what, _I'd like nothing more than to throw it at my stupid, _brainwashed, ex-_best friend's _stupid fucking face—_but it's heavy and awkward and as it slides out of my hand prematurely, its direction entirely misguided, and I watch, in horror and mortification, as it completely misses Kim and hits Embry Call right in the skull as he was turning around to beg for mozarella sticks.

Jared has Kim locked in an embrace and they're such fucking idiots that they don't notice Embry's bewildered (and quickly growing angry) face whip around to catch a glimpse of me…

…falling on my ass as the cantaloupes and canned corn give way. I hit the ground with a great crash and get smacked on the head with several cantaloupes.

Karma, I guess?

"What the _fuck?" _suddenly I'm ripped off the ground, out of the mess of cans and cantaloupes on the ground, held up on unsteady legs by a tight band of _fire _or something curled around my bicep. I glance over. It's a hand, vibrating slightly and scorching hot, and then suddenly the owner of the hand shakes me so hard I think my brain might rattle in my skull.

"Did you seriously just fucking hit me in the head with a fucking _cantaloupe?" _My eyes travel up the arm, taking in sculpted muscles under a tight T-shirt and a murderous scowl on his face.

I quickly lower my eyes back to the hand cutting off circulation to my arm. Fuck. I thought he was the nice one.

"Ow, ow, ow—" I scratch at his hand, my eyes snapping up to meet his.

The scowl slides off his face, his mouth hanging open like he just got hit in the head with a cantaloupe. My stomach lurches pleasantly, and an odd sort of heat passes over my body—like I'm desperate for heat but burning a fever; a fever that only the heat pouring off of Embry's lean, glorious figure could cure.

_Closer, closer, closer. _An alien voice chants in my head.

_"Embry," _I sigh, like it's a prayer. His name off of my lips makes his face light up with a still very dazed expression.

I forget about the cantaloupes, and the circulation rapidly being cut off to my arm. I forget about Kim and Jared finally catching up to the action. I forget about Mrs. Ateara rounding the corner, shrieking about the cantaloupes. None of that is _real._

Nothing has_ ever _been real before this moment.

Before _Embry._

"_Natalie?" _Kim shrieks, and I jump a little. _Right _into the remaining cantaloupes, as would be typical of _my _luck. There's a great crashing as it starts to rain cantaloupes directly over my head, with Embry breaking out of his apparent daze a second too late to do anything useful.

I crumple under the rain of the cantaloupes, Embry's hand around my arm the only thing holding me up.

And then everything went dark.

**A/N: Thoughts? Was it rushed? What do you think?**


	3. The Hospital and the Boy

**A/N: ...aaaanndddd CHAPTER THREE! Prepare to be amazed! (or not, whatever, just tell me your thoughts in a REVIEW!) Thank you for your support!**

***HEY, YOU! WERE YOU A FAN OF MY OTHER STORY, 'OF ALL THE LUCK'? DO YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE WRITING IT? YES? NO? MAYBE SO? WELL, GO VOTE ON THE POLL! I WANT TO KNOW YOUR OPINION! 

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Twilight or Foreigner or whatever pop culture I reference in the following chapter.**

"_I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
__I've been waiting for a girl like you, your loving will survive_  
_I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive_  
_Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life."_

— "_Waiting for a Girl Like You", _Foreigner

My first conscious thought is that someone ran over my head with a fucking steamroller.

And then I remember the cantaloupes. Either one. I mean, why the fuck do the Atearas even _stock _cantaloupes in March? They are completely out of season! That just can't be a good business venture. And why are they on the top of a shelf? Cantaloupes are _heavy, _I mean, hell-o! _Why? _If those stupid cantaloupes had been on the _floor _like they should have been I wouldn't have—

Ouch. I might be thinking too hard for my cantaloupe-smashed brain.

Am I concussed? Am I alive? Am I _dead? _Did I die by getting crushed under _cantaloupes? _Are you fucking kidding me? _Why _do I have such shitty fucking luck?

Oh my fucking god would those stupid fucking angels or whatever shut the _fuck _up already!? Stop fucking growling! Shut up!

"_Son, I'm the doctor. I understand you're worried about your friend, but you have to let me through." _Wait. _Dr. Gerandy is dead? _What?! He was so young…

Well, maybe not _young, _per se…he's definitely been packing on the years. Wow. How old _is _he? He must be seventy at least. Getting up there.

Oh my god. _shutupshutupshutup—_

_ "Embry, please calm down!" _Oh, hey Kim! You here to throw cantaloupes at my head and rip out my soul again, you soul-sucking, best friend-ditching brainwashed _goon? _

Wait. Embry? Embry's here? And I'm suddenly flooded with about a million little snapshots of the incident. Kim, cantaloupes, canned corn, Embry, _closerclosercloser—_

_Holy shit I actually hit Embry Call in the head with a cantaloupe._

…and then I got knocked out by more cantaloupes after goggling at him for five minutes. _Why _do I have such shitty luck? (Although I must say I'm a little impressed he's here at all; _I _wouldn't hang around with the freak who beaned me in the brain with a _cantaloupe.)_

_ Wait. _If I'm dead, and Embry is _here…_did I cause his _death _by _cantaloupes?_

Oh. My. God.

_ "He's just the doctor, man!" _shouts another voice, immediately grating on my pounding head and interrupting my internal freak out. "_Come on, you want to help her, don't you?" _WHAT NO FUCKING NO WHY THE FUCK IS STUPID _JARED _HERE—

I mean, I'm not crying if we _are_ all dead or anything, but I'd rather not spend eternity listening to Jared's _stupid fucking voice—_

"_Embry! Let him in!" _Ah. Kim again. (All things considered, I'm not sure how I feel about Kim being dead with the rest of us. Like, she's my best friend and yes I'd like to make up, but only if she _grovels _and admits to the fact that, _yes, _I, Natalie Wright, was _right _about the brainwashing theory.)

Are you there, God? It's me, Natalie. Please tell Kim to _shut up. _

"_Don't touch her! Stay away from her!" _Is that an answer? "_She's mine!" _What? God, I'm only semi-confident in your existence…I mean, I have years of anecdotal evidence that you really don't like me, but I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment.

"_C'mon, man!" _Jared knows _God? _What.

"_Shut the fuck up, Jared—"_ Oh my god it's not God.

It's _Embry. _

Has his voice always been like that?

Embry _actually _took me to the hospital. I would have left me there if I were him and then myself was someone else. Or something.

Wait. Am I dead or in the hospital? Someone should decide that, shouldn't they?

"_Boys, please—step aside, I need to examine the patient!" _More growling. Oh my _god, _shut up. Shut shut up shut up—

_Fuck that noise, _I think, and I decide to be alive because at least then I've got a shot at ditching the _Kim and Jared Show _A burst of pain centered behind my eyeballs courses through my brain like a lightning strike, and in a flash I'm brought crashing down into the world of mind-numbing cantaloupe-induced pain.

I let out an embarrassing half whimper, and immediately the same rolling, feverish heat from the general store is washing over my body

"Natalie? Natalie, come on, baby, wake up—" A voice, frantic and hushed and vaguely terrified, right by my face, is calling me _baby_. A _really _nice voice. Like a voice dipped in _painkillers _that go straight to my throbbing head. Ah, beautiful disembodied voice! _Please, _don't stop talking.

I make a sound akin to a beached trout as I peel my eyes open.

And Embry Call's face is shoved about two inches from my own.

My reaction should be: "—_what the—?" _and an attempt to jerk away.

My actual reaction: "You're really _here_," all surprised and breathy, like I'm Scarlett O'Hara and he's Rhett Butler and I'm about to proclaim to the world that tomorrow is a new day. My eyes are locked on his impossibly dark ones, unable to look away even as they dart over my face in a frantic motion.

His fingers come up to trace down the line of my jaw, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "_Natalie…" _he murmurs, like King Arthur might have said "_the Holy Grail…" _when he finally found the sacred object he'd been questing for.

_closer, closer, closer! _chants a voice in the back of my head that has (mercifully) lain dormant up until about this moment. Hearing voices in my head is _honestly _the last thing I need right now, considering I'm trying to prove that my best friend was brainwashed and I need to not be crazy.

…isn't there something people say about only crazy people thinking they're not crazy?

_No, no, there isn't._

Oh, thanks, random voice in my head. Your opinion is _exactly _what I was hoping for.

_closer closer closer closer _goes the voice.

_b-beep b-beep b-b-beep b-beep _goes my heart monitor as it actually broadcasts my heart skipping a beat.

His fingers are replaced by the heat of his entire hand cradling my jaw, and the same fire he'd ignited deep in my core back by the cantaloupes and canned corn returns with a vengeance. I'm suddenly boiling over and yet shivering desperately, lacking heat. I am consumed with fever and _Embry _is my cure.

_closer closer closer—_

"Natalie, oh my god! You're okay!" Interrupting the voice, Kim ducks around behind Embry to hover over me. He _growls _at her, like legitimately _growls _at her, when she reaches out to touch my arm. He reflexively steps back, causing his hand to slid from my jaw, and when I'm hit with a sudden, soul-numbing cold as his warmth retreats away, I kind of want to growl at her, too.

But still, it's _Kim, _here, worried about me even though Jared is literally still in the room. (_why _is he still here? _Leave.) _

And I did kind of try to throw a cantaloupe at her head, so…I kinda owe her anyway. "Hey, Kim," I mumble, and I even try to throw a smile in for good measure. Bad idea. "My head hurts," I grumble, massaging my temple. Kim winces, and for a deluded half second I think it's because she's sympathetic to my pain.

And then I recognize the _you so shouldn't have done that so you brought this on yourself but I still feel sorry for what's about to happen _look.

Like lightning, Embry knocks her aside—Jared gives a loud snarl at this; we should really look into a muzzle for that guy—and snatches my hand away from my head. My heart monitor starts to go haywire again, which only seems to add to the apparent state of panic he's in. "Where? Where does it hurt?!" He's practically yelling at me as he says it, his (_dark, dark) _eyes are wild and scared. "Do you need ice? Medicine? Where's the doctor? Jared, where's the doctor?!"

(…how did Kim know he react like that?)

"Dude," Jared's stupid voice answers. I scowl, and Kim, noticing my scowl, scowls back warningly. Scowl scowl scowl. Funny word, _scowl._ "The doctor is _right here! _You just haven't let him anywhere near her since we got here!"

"Shut up, Jared," Embry snarls (he just gets more and more appealing with every word he says), but he looks more embarrassed than angry as he turns to see a stern Dr. Gerandy. "Sorry, sir," Embry says, his copper-colored skin tinting slightly darker over his cheekbones. I guess he really _is _the polite one.

"Yes, well," Dr. Gerandy sniffs, adjusting his glasses and his clipboard importantly. He bustles to the other side of my hospital bed, shooting Embry a few wary looks as he goes. "So, Mr. Cameron was filling me in on your latest…_escapade, _shall we say?"

I scowl at him.

"I must say, Miss Wright, in all my years at Forks Community Hospital I've never had someone complain of a concussion caused by _cantaloupes," _Dr. Gerandy's mouth twitches upwards slightly as a hint to his amusement.

_I _am not amused.

"Yeah, yeah, Dr. G," I snap. "You didn't figure it was possible for a child to get her tongue stuck in a Fisher Price Record Player microphone, either, and yet I proved you wrong. You should be expecting it by now." Jared lets out a guffaw at my pain. Embry socks him in the stomach to shut him up.

I like that kid more and more.

Dr. Gerandy raises his eyebrows, his amusement more pronounced. He and Kim share a long-suffering look (would you believe this _isn't _the first time she's accompanied me into the ER?) before he starts his examination.

"So, Natalie," Dr. Gerandy begins. He shines a light into my eyes, turning my head from side to side as a way to check my pupils. The minute his hands touch my face, Embry is hovering on my other side, poised threateningly beside me and taking my (suddenly tiny) hand in both of his _huge _ones. Dr. Gerandy, for the most part, tactfully ignores the sudden motion, but does raise an eyebrow. "Tell me the events leading up to your injury. To test your memory."

My face flushes red under Embry's anxious gaze, and Dr. G's ministrations and barely stifled amusement. "I climbed onto the rack at the general store."

Dr. G gives a barely suppressed snort of laughter he passes off as a cough. "Will you ever learn…" he mumbles, shaking his head. I notice it's not a question.

"Yeah, Nat," Kim moves closer to the bed. I can't help but notice that Jared automatically moves with her, like metal to a magnet. "I was wondering why you were climbing on the rack…especially after last time."

"_What _last time?" Embry glares from me to Kim and back again, and as I turn an embarrassingly blotchy red I kind of wish I'd had better aim with the stupid cantaloupe.

"I busted my head open trying to get ruffles chips when we were eight," I say.

"Quil's mom _loves _her…" Kim giggles.

"Well, the loss of consciousness was worrying," Dr. Gerandy says. Embry's hands tighten around mine. "But you _are _surprisingly coherent, your memory seems to be fine—speech and eye movements are regular. Your movements as far as I can see are normal…I don't believe a CT scan will be necessary this time. Take it easy for a few days, and avoid any activities that could cause further head injury. You might experience some nausea or vomiting, some dizziness—"

"I know the concussion spiel, Dr. G."

"Yes, I suppose you would," Dr. Gerandy says, scribbling on his clipboard. He stands up. "Make sure you avoid any physically or mentally stressful situations for the next few days. Which, of course, is why Nancy and Holly aren't running around in here." Nancy and Holly are my favorite nurses who bustle around and cluck disapprovingly like mother hens. Mom is a big fan of theirs. "Other than that, you're free to go," he unhooks me from the heart monitor. "Your mother knows when she should contact me, I suppose. I don't hope to see you again," Dr. Gerandy says with a wink as he steps out of the room.

"I called your mother, just so you know," Kim explains with her trademark soft smile. "In the car over here. She told me it served you right for sneaking away, and that I was a dear for taking care of you."

"So my own mother is boycotting my sickbed because I snuck away? Typical." I roll my eyes. And then I remember something. "Wait, Kim, what about _your _mom?"

Kim's eyes turn steely and Jared lets out a growl at the mere mention of _that woman. _"I forgot I was mad at you about that," Kim gives me a dirty look.

"Oh! You discovered my _evil plan! _Kim will _forgive _me for my wrongdoings if I give myself a concussion with _cantaloupes!" _I gasp theatrically before scowling at her. "_I _didn't say anything to your mom!"

"You squealed to _your _mom!"

"I was _worried _about you!"

"What I do is _none _of your concern, Natalie! I take you to the hospital, and do you _thank _me? _No, _of course not—"

"Jared, get your girl out of here!" Embry snarls. "The doctor said no _stress!"_

_ "Hey!" _I rip my hand from Embry's grasp. He gives me a hurt look like I slapped him or something. "He doesn't _own _her!"

"Shut the fuck up, Natalie—" Kim snarls as Jared drags her away, shooting me dirty looks over his shoulder periodically. They disappear down the hall, leaving me and Embry alone. I blink rapidly, dispelling the sudden urge to cry.

"Come on, Natalie, baby," Embry says, and everything about him is gentle; his eyes, his voice, his touch, his face, all in stark contrast to the way he'd spoken to Jared only about two seconds ago. "I'll take you home." He slowly snakes his arms under my knees and behind my lower back, and like I weigh nothing more than a pillow or something, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms so that I am essentially cocooned in the rolling heat emanating from his body. My head lolls into the space where his shoulder meets his neck, and I have the sudden urge to bury my face there and press my lips against his skin.

_Holy crap he smells good! _

I feel his breath against my hair as he carries me, bundled up and safe, through the usual chaos of the waiting room and into the parking lot. Somehow it's like he's barely moving, because I don't jostle around at all. When we find my Jeep, he gently sets me down on my wobbly feet, keeping his steadying arm locked around my waist. He digs into the pocket of his shorts, fishing out the key.

"Where did you get the key?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the offending object as he unlocks the car.

"I'm guessing, since it's really not any secret that you're not Jared's biggest fan," Embry smiles wryly at this, levying me easily up into the passenger seat _of my own car._ "That you'll be pleased to know that you blocked him in, and that he nearly had a heart attack when Kim had to drive your car to the hospital. She fished it out of your pocket."

A stab of guilt rockets through me, accompanied by a thrill of excitement. "She was—she was actually worried, wasn't she?" The _she still cares about me _goes unspoken.

"Of course she was _worried," _Embry scowls. "You were _unconscious." _His arms start to tremble like they did in the grocery store when he was angry about the cantaloupe.

Oh, fuck. I forgot about that.

"I still don't understand _why _you were throwing cantaloupes off the top of the rack in the first place," Embry pulls the seatbelt across my body a little roughly. What am I, a _child?_ "You could have been _hurt—_you _were _hurt," dark eyes on fire and tremor returned full-force, Embry slams the passenger's door shut hard enough to rattle windows.

He doesn't say anything as he gets into the driver's seat of _my car, _choosing instead to sit in stewy silence. His eyes dart over to me every now and again, each glance igniting a tinny restlessness inside my bones that makes me squirm in my seat.

God, just _drive _already!

"I'm _sorry _I hit you in the head with a cantaloupe, okay? I got more than my fair share of karmic payback for it as you might have_ noticed_," my voice is strident, piercing through the tense atmosphere of my car like a knife. My eyes zoom to his hands, which are trembling like leaves in a hurricane. "—okay, okay, I was trying to hit Kim! I _missed, _alright? I was upset that she yelled at me—"

"She _yelled _at you?" Embry snarls, _finally _starting the car. He doesn't take it out of park, yet.

_why…_

"I kind of deserved it," I mumble, staring at my hands. Embry's concerned gaze heats "I'm just—I'm just _worried _about her. And…lonely, too, I guess." _Why _am I telling _him _this? I barely even _know _him—and he's _in the cult!_

_ "_No, you _didn't _deserve it_. _She…she just—I don't know. She misses you."

"Bullshit," I rasp. "Fucking _drive_ already."

"Your wish is my command," he says, like he's not even joking. But he does actually start to drive my car—at the speed of a _snail._ I try to ignore it for as long as possible, but by the time we'd been sitting in tense silence for ten minutes, we'd barely left the fucking parking lot, and to top it all off, we get cut off by an old lady who can't even see over the wheel.

"This is isn't _Driving Miss Daisy!" _I snap, glaring at the rain-slick road ahead. "So if you could drive like a _normal person—"_

_ "_Hey! Precious cargo, here," the words sound like he's joking about himself—but the way he looks at me, out of the corner of his eye, gives me the stupid notion that _I'm _the precious cargo.

I don't really know what the proper response to that is, so I say the first thing that comes to mind: "I really am sorry about the whole cantaloupe thing, though. I didn't—I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Embry barks out a laugh, and the tension in the car evaporates as quickly as it had come. "Hurt _me?" _Like the idea of getting hurt from being brained in the prefrontal cortex with a fucking cantaloupe was so fucking _laughable. _

_ "_Well, excuse me for being _concerned." _

Embry frowns, confused for a second, before his face lights up with a smile that makes my entire stomach attempt backflips. "You were _worried _about me?"

"I was until you were a jerk who drives my car at five miles an hour!" And then I realize that he totally isn't a jerk _because _he's driving me home from the hospital even after I brained him in the prefrontal cortex with a cantaloupe. "Shit, I'm the jerk, aren't I? I'm sorry, Embry."

(from the weird smile on his face, I'm about 90% certain that the only part of that whole conversation he actually noted was his _name._)

"Come _on, _Embry, it'll be _Christmas _by the time we get home if you drive at five miles an hour. Now it's official. Grandmas driver faster than you."

He gives me a look. _Precious cargo _runs through my mind.

"Driving too slowly can be just as dangerous as driving too fast!" I blurt out. He pales rather comically (didn't know we Quileutes _could _pale so fast) and _finally _puts (some of) the pedal to the metal.

Mission, _success._

We don't really say much the rest of the way; Embry is apparently a paranoid (I mean, _careful) _driver poised to slam on the brakes at any moment and is too busy looking out for potential zombies or whatever to make conversation. Honestly, the day has been weird enough that I wouldn't rule out the zombie apocalypse.

I mean, to recap: I had my epiphany about Kim's brainwashing; skipped school; formulated a plan; had brother reject plan; climbed on a grocery rack; hit Embry Call in the head with a cantaloupe; fell off the grocery rack; got concussion from cantaloupes; went to the hospital; and general Embry Call weirdness.

Sheesh. I've had a very long day.

The car stops so gently that I don't notice that we're in front of my house until Embry has hopped out of the car and crossed over to open my door for me.

"Hey, sunshine," he says, and his face is suddenly so close to mine that my only coherent thought is that _he _should be the one called _sunshine _with a smile like _that. _I try to return it, but I'm pretty sure I look brain-damaged (more than I am already, at least).

He shakes his head and does his under-the-breath chuckle thing with the same soft smile, so I guess he doesn't mind.

Or maybe I just _always _look brain-damaged. Fuck.

Oblivious to my mental turmoil, Embry unbuckles me and carefully slides his muscled arms behind my back and under my knees, lifting me easily out of the car.

"Nice house," he remarks as he steps up onto our porch. I glance up; it _is _a nice house, especially by La Push standards, with its wrap-around porch and Victorian-style design. It's not exactly _small, _either, but that's what we get for Dad's family being _nouveau riche _in the logging industry.

What a _burden._

"Thanks," I say, and I blush for maybe the 800th time just as the front door opens.

"Natalie Lisa Wright!" Mom stands in the doorway, all-out hands-on-hips-level Mom-mode. She has the mix of a vicious glare and a disapproving scowl on her face—it kind of looks like she's constipated, but as I value my life, I will never ever mention that to her.

"You are in big trouble, young lady!" Sgt. Noodle bounds out behind her, stepping on his own ears and tripping himself up. Mom ignores him. "Sneaking out, making a mess in the grocery store—again! Joy Ateara tried to get me to _buy _all the cantaloupes and canned corn you knocked over, like I'd ever—never mind! And then you land yourself in the _hospital? _Natalie, you're lucky they have your papers on call, because if I had to go to _Forks _during rush hour—" like there's actually any traffic between Forks and La Push to _have _a rush hour. "—you'd be admitted to the _morgue!"_

Mom's eyes bug out when she (finally) notices the giant, trembling he-man carrying me. "Oh—you're Tiffany Call's son, aren't you." Not a question. Mom knows _everyone_.

"Yeah," Embry says, settling me gently to my feet but still keeping a heavily-muscled arm around my waist. "I'm Embry," he sticks out his hand.

Mom shakes it. "Josephine Wright. Natalie's mother," she explains unnecessarily. It's a little disturbing, but I think Embry's hotness may have rendered my _mother _incapable of coherent speech.

Gah. Gross.

"Alright, sweetheart, say goodbye to your friend," Mom says. The words are sweet but the tone says _you're lucky you brought a witness. _

And, uh, Mom? He is in the _cult._ _Not _my friend.

Embry gets a weird look on his face, his eyes going all wide and puppy-dog like.

Like he's about to _cry. _

…_and _I've had enough of the cult for today, thank you very much. "Uh, see you, I guess," I mumble, taking a shaky step out of his arms. I only barely get free from his impossibly strong grip to stumble into the doorway.

(I tactfully ignore the way he jerked forward as if to catch me.)

"Do you need a ride home, Embry?" Mom asks, nudging Sgt. into the house with her foot. I jerk around in surprise—he isn't _walking home, _is he?!

Oh, God, _tell _me he didn't miss his ride with Jared and Kim to drive stupid idiot _me _home from the hospital.

(This is what mortification is; I thought I knew when I sat on a cactus, but _nope. _This is the _real _deal.)

Embry laughs like I'm not dying from mortification in the doorway because he _stranded himself _for me and _oh my god _he might need a ride from my _mother _and they'd be alone in the car and _oh my god _the stories she'll tell about _me—_

I should look into moving to Australia.

"Nah, that's okay," Embry waves her away with a good-natured smile. Mom immediately smiles back and _how is he fucking charming my mother?_ "My friend swings by here on his way home, so I'll just catch a lift with him." His eyes slide over to me, giving my body a lingering look, and I have to look away for fear I'll spontaneously combust or something if I don't. "I'll see you soon, sunshine," he says, and even though his words and tone are casual, every bone in my body screams that it's about as far from 'casual' as you can get.

He's _promising _he'll see me soon.

Holy shit.

My heart spasms like it's trying to leap out of my chest, straight to Embry. He gives me a brilliant and somewhat conspiratorial smile, like we're in cahoots or something which we are _not _and he _really_ needs to fucking _leave_ before I have a fucking heart attack on my front porch—

I barely register Mom thanking him and stepping back into the house because I really can't do much else other than watch his lithe movements like a (sex-crazed) hawk. I stand, transfixed, with my heart still beating a frantic and uneven tattoo in my ribcage, as he shoves his hands into his pockets. And he's walking away to _finally _leave (no heat attack today, _please) _when just as he's about ten feet away, against my volition, his name is ripped from my lips: "Embry!"

He whirls around and I'm back to being pinned under his heated gaze faster than a blink. He looks like an eager little puppy as he waits with baited breath for me to say something—like what I have to say is going to cure cancer or prove the existence of aliens or something else hugely important.

It takes me a second to really remember that he's waiting for me to, you know, _actually talk. _

God, I can't catch a fucking_ break _today, can I?

"Thank you," is what I end up saying, lamely. And I cringe inwardly at my awkwardness. "Thank you for taking care of me," I amend, like that'll make it any less awkward.

His answering smile is blinding like the sun, and the feeling of its blistering heat lingers like a shadow over my skin long after he disappears at the end of my driveway.

**A/N: Spill your guts in a review. What does your _heart _tell you? (about this story?)**

**oh, and vote for the POLL!**

**Love, Lyra **


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